


Google, What Is Love

by incenseandteacups



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alien AU, M/M, that's right motherfuckers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-12 13:19:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4480736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incenseandteacups/pseuds/incenseandteacups
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco is an alien, who reached adulthood and was set on Earth half a year ago. He's still finding his way through Earth's society and figuring out how to interact, but when he's asked on a date by the human boy Jean, what is he supposed to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Google, What Is A Date

**Author's Note:**

> I literally. I just had this idea and then I went with it and wrote mORE THAN I EVER WRITE FOR FIRST CHAPTERS I'M SO HAPPY WITH MYSELF

Humans are strange. 

I was dropped off on this planet about half a year ago. I was given a selection of humans to observe, and had to form my body based on those. My kind are able to change to fit the appearances of other planets' inhabitants, which I've been told is the only reason we survived after our home was destroyed, taking to the galaxy in search of a safe place to stay. Many of my ancestors were killed, trying to approach other species; apparently we're frightening, in some way. But I'm getting off subject. 

I'm at a human place of nourishment - food lines the walls around me. It's much better than the food I had on our space station - until we mature to twenty Earth years, we're given plain tablets with all the nutrients we need. Healthy, but not enjoyable. I hear I'm lucky - the variety and culture that overwhelmed me when I first arrived is much richer than those of the other planets. I had the good fortune of being born an Earthbound hatchling. 

In front of me stands a human boy, probably slightly younger than myself. His lip has a small hoop in it, ears lined with similar items of jewelry. I can't decide if I like the idea. Scarring your own body sounds bizarre and painful, but the glint of metal is enjoyable to look at. He stands behind a small counter, and is thrusting a small scrap of paper at me. Several numbers are written on it, and it takes a few seconds for me to recognize the format. A cellular digit code? I blink. 

It's late night, so there aren't many other humans around. I prefer it that way, since I feel uncomfortable in large crowds - I know I'm not overly detectable, but I still worry that I'll be discovered. Scary tales told among the hatchlings have made me scared of what could happen if a human knew what I was. 

Despite the lack of company, his eyes are flickering to the sides. I wonder who he's looking for. Slowly, I reach up and take the paper gingerly, fear building in my chest. Why is he approaching me? Is he suspicious? Have I acted strangely around him? 

"Uh...I was wondering if you wanna go on a date with me...sometime?" He mumbles, and I stare at him. A date. I try to remember the meaning of the word. The date? 

"The date is the twenty-third day of January." I answer. Maybe that was what he wanted. But then, why the cellular code? 

He raises his eyebrows, an expression of confusion on his face, and panic sparks in me. Did I say something wrong? He asked for a date, didn't he? Maybe I had the pronunciation of the month wrong. "Is that...is that wrong?" I question, taking the slightest step back before stopping myself. I need to stay calm. Running will only alert him that I am not human. 

His face is red. I try to remember the reasons for this. Anger, arousal, embarrassment...is he angry? 

Suddenly, a small smile appears on his face and he laughs. What? Why is he laughing? I'm entirely bewildered, and it seems that he notices that. "You're kinda weird." He states, and I'm not sure what to make of it. "Do you wanna go get coffee with me tomorrow?" Do I? I'm not sure what will happen if I say no. 

"...yes?" His smile grows huge, and I'm relieved. I must have chosen the right answer. 

"Great! Is noon at the cafe down the block alright?" I pause, then with notably more confidence nod at him. 

"Yes." 

That night, I look up the word 'date' on my computer. Apparently, aside from the numeral day of the month, it means a romantic social activity. Romantic. This human is interested in me romantically? I don't know how to feel about that - what would the feeling romance even be? 

When morning comes, my human body is fatigued. Instead of resting as I should have, I spent my time searching about dates online. More commonly, romance is referred to as love, and the definition of love is yet unknown. There are well-known ideals, but they're all vague. Physical symptoms mirror those of anxiety and arousal. Emotional symptoms...well, I'm still not used to defining emotion, so that was more difficult for me to understand. 

I have two hours before I need to meet the human at the cafe. As I'm dressing, I realize, stricken, that I don't know his name. He likely wore a identification tag, but I've always avoided meeting the gazes of humans, and I never looked at it. 

I work on preparing a meal. The practice of cooking was one I took to quickly - learning how to put different ingredients together to make something enjoyable to eat. I move slowly, so that it takes up more of the time between my 'date' and myself, and when I'm finished I have forty-five minutes. I decide to go to the cafe and wait there. 

I haven't tasted proper coffee before. I tried to make it at one point, but I think I must have done it improperly, because it was bitter and unpleasant, despite the smell that said otherwise. Hopefully it will be better here. 

About twenty minutes before noon, the boy enters the cafe, his eyes scanning the seats for a few seconds before settling on me. I feel a little trapped, even though we both agreed on this meeting. He smiles brightly, and I find myself relaxing some. He slides into the opposite side of the booth I'm seated in. "Have you ordered yet?" 

I pause. Most of the date etiquette manuals I read online said it was polite to wait for your partner to arrive before ordering nourishment, but he seems expectant that I have. "No. I was waiting for you." I answer, nervous. 

He just nods, his cheeks flushed again. "Oh, alright, thanks. Have you been here before?" He asks, reading a menu that he picked up on the way to the booth. I shake my head, and he grins at me. "Mind if I recommend something?" I shake my head again, finding his expression...attractive, I think. His teeth are very white, surrounded by lips that curl in a way I like. 

"That would be helpful, thank you." He seems to hesitate just a second at my words, and I wonder what's wrong, but he doesn't seem upset. Just slightly confused, by something. 

"This one's good, if you like sweet stuff." He says, pointing to a drink on the menu.

"I enjoy sweet drinks, yes." I answer, finding myself a bit excited by the prospect of a new taste. A small smile tilts my lips up, looking down at the table, but when he doesn't say anything I look up towards him. He's staring at me, mouth a bit lax, and my smile drops. Did I do something strange? "What's wrong?"

He shakes his head, the blush on his cheeks brightening. "Nothing." I must have made him angry somehow, but I don't know what I did, so I just stay silent. A waitress comes up, and thankfully he orders both of our drinks - I hate ordering food. That's part of the reason I became so skilled at cooking. 

We sit quietly for a few more minutes until our drinks arrive, and I wrap my hands around the warm ceramic cup. The smell of chocolate and coffee have blended together nicely, and my nerves are forgotten for another instant as I lean down to take a tentative sip. I jolt up, the hot liquid scalding on my tongue, and find myself staring at the drink, feeling almost betrayed. The boy laughs. "It's hot." 

I stare at him, my own cheeks heating in an emotion I can safely identify as embarrassment. For a moment words writhe inside my head, trying to find a good order to come out in, and then I blurt, "What's your name?" 

He blinks at me. "Uh...I'm Jean. You're Marco, right?" He scratches the side of his nose, not meeting my gaze for a few moments. "I, um...I saw you talking to someone the other day, and they said that...it's a really nice name." I don't understand why he seems uncomfortable admitting this. It was just an observation, yes? 

I try to remember who I was speaking to - Eren, perhaps? He's a hatchling that matured and was sent down at the same time as me, and we've been friends since we were young. He's the only one I can remember speaking to so recently, and he's taking much more to human life than I am. If I didn't know him, I could almost forget he's one of my kind. 

"Yes, my name is Marco. Thank you." I murmur, and he tilts his head. His ears are red. 

"It's probably cool enough for you to drink now." I take a few seconds to understand what he means, and with a start of realization take another, wary sip of the drink. A wonderful blend of flavors hits my tongue, sweet and rich and just a touch bitter. Is this how proper coffee tastes? I smile into my drink, whipped cream cool against my upper lip. 

"I've only had coffee once before." I say quietly, feeling rather content. I take another swallow, warmth spreading through my stomach. "I must have made it wrong, because it tasted nothing like this." My gaze flicks up to see an odd smile on his face, watching me almost curiously. 

"Do you mean...um, did it taste like this?" He offers his cup to me, plain dark liquid in it. I take it slowly, watching him with bemusement before taking a drink. My nose crinkles up, thrusting the cup back into his hands. He laughs, and the genuine amusement in the sound makes me forget the bitterness of his coffee. "You made it right. It's supposed to taste like that, although I know it's probably nasty." 

"Why would you drink that?" I question, bewildered. I gulp down some of my own sweet coffee to soothe my taste buds - now that I know what to look for, I suppose I can recognize the origin of the bitter drink. 

"It's an acquired taste. At least, that's what everyone says, and I guess it's true." 

"I can't imagine I'd ever acquire a taste like that." I say, shaking my head and making a face. I realize a few seconds later how rude that must have sounded, going to apologize, but he looks somehow...happy. 

We chat for about an hour more, and I find conversation coming easier as the minutes pass. Eventually, he tells me he has to go to work, and asks for my cell number - I figure out what he's talking about after a few seconds, and after another few have written it down on the small piece of paper he tears from a journal in his backpack. 

Normally, I'm nervous around humans. And honestly, it's not like I'm relaxed around him in the first place. But somehow...I find myself looking forward to speaking to this human boy again. 

To Jean.


	2. Google, Where to Buy A New Lock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco needs to get a lock for his door. Or does he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGAIN. HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS. 
> 
> (Thanks for so much of the good reception this story has gotten! I'm super happy that people like it.)

I've been 'dating' the human boy Jean for about four months now. Out of the humans I've met, I like him the most. His smile makes me feel like writing the rhythmic lines of information humans call poetry, and when he says my name my chest feels strange and tight. At first it alarmed me a bit - the sensations I started to feel when I was around him, or even thought of him, they seemed like some sort of illness. I spent a good many hours searching my symptoms - Google really is a miraculous thing, humans are so clever - and they all came down to one thing. 

Love. 

I was in love, or rather, I am in love. The question I'd asked, what love was, what romantic interest felt like; this is it. I've answered myself, albeit months after I wondered. It's terrifying. Humans still scare me, and I still don't like being around many of them, but Jean is...different. He knows that I am afraid and still stays with me, and even sets up the social interactions called dates, which I'm used to by now, in isolated places or at times when there won't be many people around, so that I can feel more comfortable. I truly think I've fallen in love with this human. 

We've begun kissing, a human form of showing affection through physical contact. It's...pleasant. To hear Jean making soft noises, feel his body press heatedly against my own. I'm feeling more base human desires by the day, but we still haven't done anything but kiss. I'm too worried I'll lose my control over this form if I get especially...distracted.

On that note, holding the human form is getting easier. It used to be that every time I was in the safety of my home I'd need to relax into my original body, or I'd start to feel like I was walking in a tight suit of rubber. My human body is genuinely beginning to feel like my real self. I've become used to seeing my human face in the mirror. 

Still, I need to relax my mask once a week or so, for comfort's sake. Today, for instance, it's starting to wear on me. My skin feels scratchy and rough, like someone's rubbing it with sandpaper, and I feel like I'm so overheated I'll cook. I get home from the grocery store - Jean's line was full, unfortunately, but with my growing social skills I recognized that he did give me an apologetic look - in a bit of a haze, dropping the grocery bags beside the door. 

I'm quick to pull off my clothes, not wanting to tear them. The first things that appear this time are my teeth, mouth filling with the thick fangs that make it difficult to use human speech. They're soon followed by...well, they're somewhere between what humans would call horns and antenna. Four black-and-white swirled spikes, similar in appearance to a buffalo's horns but closer in function to an ant's antenna. 

Pale white wings, covered in thickly-leathered scales, sprout almost painfully from my back, like the sensation of walking on a foot that's fallen asleep. They were for gliding from high branches. A sound like twigs breaking fills the room as my bones shift and rearrange, but it isn't painful, just a bit uncomfortable. 

I now stand a good five feet taller than I did, a tail lined with spikes like my 'horns' swaying behind me, and my body is covered in more light scales, dappled gray like a horse's coat. My face has elongated into a muzzle that fits my teeth, meant for tearing apart the fleshy trees of our long-lost home. Ears tipped with tufts of fur sprout from my head, twitching and rotating to get used to themselves again. 

The last thing to change are my eyes, my vision changing and growing a touch duller, although the colors are more vivid. They're black entirely but for the white pupils, meant for a different type of light. 

Something behind me crashes to the floor. 

I turn quickly, alarmed, and find myself staring down into the terrified face of my love. Jean's eyes are wide, and he takes a step back for the door that I must have left open in my rush. Lying next to him is a single grocery bag, a can rolling loose from its spot on the floor. 

The next moment, every moves too quickly for me to register. He wheels to bolt for the door, and I leap forward to reach above him and slam it shut as he reaches it. He now presses his back against the wood, and it takes a second to register he's about to scream, a brief noise of alarm making its way out of his throat before I've covered his mouth with paw-like hands that end in scythed claws. These, I've been told, were also meant for tearing open the tough barks of trees and getting at the insides. I can't imagine what he thinks of them. 

He's pushing weakly against my hand - or it feels weak, I can't tell how much effort he's putting in when I'm not human. I can't breathe. I don't know what to do. Tears are falling onto his cheeks, arms falling limply at his sides as he closes his eyes. Does he think I'm going to kill him? I don't think he saw me change; I would have noticed. He must have entered just as I finished returning to my own body, when I was still adjusting and distracted. He doesn't know it's me. 

I have to take a few seconds to think, trying to clear my mind. I can't change back for at least another hour - my body simply won't make the transformation so soon after the first one. And I can't let him go, either. Or maybe...

Slowly, I release him, relieved when he doesn't scream. He stares at me, blinks, and then scrabbles at the door handle. I have to hold the door closed and, when he looks at me with despair etched onto his features, shake my head mutely. He edges away from the door now, and I can see him glancing at the windows, but it's no use. I've already closed them up, on the off chance that a neighbor peeked in and saw me. 

"What did you do to Marco?" He asks, and there's a certain carefulness in his voice, like he's afraid of the answer. I'm taken aback. He really hasn't realized by now? "Marco lives here. Did you hurt him?" I'm standing with my back to the door, now, and slowly shake my head at him once more. He continues to glare at me, but it's a thin veil of anger over his real fear. 

I raise one finger in a 'wait' motion, a pang of guilt in my chest when he flinches at the motion. Then, two hearts hammering inside my chest, I point at myself. He scowls at me for a few seconds, then his face goes lax with realization. I've never felt ashamed of my appearance, finding humans the odd ones instead, but as he looks at me I feel abruptly ashamed. 

"Marco...?" He's still frightened, but now it's combined with a certain air of betrayal. He thinks I've tricked him. I wish I could talk, but my mouth can't form human words. I want to tell him that this was the only thing I was lying about. That every single other thing was real. I'd only just felt I had a human heart, and it's already breaking. 

He sits rather roughly on the ground, running a hand through his hair and leaving it there for awhile. Slowly, I lay down as well - this body isn't made to sit, either standing with a slightly canine gait or laying down. I'm pressed against the door, to be safe - he won't be able to move me, even if I just lay there. We sit there for a good thirty minutes, and he doesn't move or speak.

I don't entirely realize I've fallen asleep, until I'm woken abruptly by the sensation of a hand sliding over my wing. A jolt of alarm goes through me, and the hand raises sharply, but when I open my eyes to look at the human sitting cross-legged beside me, the animosity he had put off is gone. Instead, there's a sense of tentative curiosity, and so I rest my head back down, stretching the wing out a bit in invitation. 

His touch is just as light as before, a gentle caress on smooth leather-covered scales. He continues this for a few minutes, soon growing bolder, and if I wasn't so on edge from being near him, I'd fall asleep again. Instead, I continue watching him warily, tensing when he scoots up close to my head. My antenna tingle when he places his hands on them, fingertips skating the surface, and the sensation is almost too intense - those are for picking up information, after all, they're sensitive. 

He moves on to pick up my muzzle and actually place it on his lap. I'd move away, but I don't want to ruin the calm that's settled over us. He pulls up my lip to reveal my teeth, only to hurriedly drop it back down and shake his head, huffing out a breath. "Don't need to see that..." He mumbles to himself, but doesn't seem entirely put off. He lowers his forehead and places it on mine. closing his eyes. 

"You can't talk, right?" I give the barest shake of my head, not wanting to dislodge him. I can't believe he's next to me, so close to me. Humans are supposed to panic, be afraid, and he was. But now...it's like he's forgotten he's scared. 

"Do you eat people?" I can't help but chuckle, although the sound is more similar to a deep whuffing from within my chest. I shake my head. He lets out a slow almost-sigh that I can tell is relieved. He thought I ate people? 

He starts his next question several times, unable to get the first word all the way out. Finally, he blurts out, hushed as we're pressed together, "Did you mean it when you said you loved me too?" 

My breath is having a hard time coming out. I nod. Something warm lands on my face, and with a start I realize he's crying. I don't quite understand. Is he upset that I really do love him? He said it first. Maybe now that he knows I'm what humans would call a monster, he doesn't want me to love him. Maybe- 

"Thank God. I love you, Marco, I love you so much." 

**

Two months have passed since then. As soon as I was able to change into my human form again, I did, and we talked late into the night. I told him what I was. I told him where we were from, mapped out imaginary stars on his ceiling, repeated to him the stories of our home world that our ancestors passed down to us. He listened to it all, only interrupting occasionally to ask a question. He laughed when I told him the function of our teeth and claws, that the frightening horns that had sprouted from my head were just to sense threats. Apparently we have all the traits of an Earth predator. 

He hasn't told anyone. He still treats me like he did before, and is even more accepting of my lack of human social skills. We have late-night coffee dates, he's started bringing me different fruits to sample when I told him how much I enjoyed them. When my endurance runs out and I need to be in my real body for a few hours, he always joins me. I spend the time curled around him, as he leans into my side and sketches pictures of me. 

I can safely say, now, that I am in love with this human.


End file.
